


Crossroads

by Wolfstar4evr



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Post Season 7, Alternate Season Eight and onwards, Angst, Dad Sam, Eventual Sam/OFC, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, More tags to be added, Never written anything like this before, No Amelia and dog, Parental Sam Winchester, Resurrected John Winchester, Sam looked for Dean, Widly Canon Divergent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-04-17 15:51:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14192457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfstar4evr/pseuds/Wolfstar4evr
Summary: Sam did look for Dean, and made some new friends and relationships while he did, more than he ever expected.After a year of being hurt by other hunters, becoming a possible dad to a human baby and a dad-figure to a supernatural kid, and maybe falling in love for the first time in years, Sam is ready to tell Dean everything and bring Dean on this journey of parenthood with him, but when John Winchester makes a sudden reappearance all of that disappears.Sam finds himself lying about his year, spinning a story about not looking for either Dean or Castiel and instead settling down to live a normal, hunting-free life. Dean immediately begins to punish him for it, while John doesn't really seem to say anything at all. Sam just waits for his window to tell the truth, all the while trying to stay present in his kids' lives without giving himself away.Then, when Castiel comes back, things get even more complicated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I've never written anything quite like this, and I'm not sure how far it will go, so any kind of feedback is welcome on this story. Thank you for clicking on it at all!  
> I hope you enjoy reading.

As Sam drives, his heart is thumping so loudly in his chest he can hardly hear anything else. His foot is almost to the floor with how fast he’s going, and his hands grip the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white.

 _Dean is home_.

Dean is home, and he’s waiting for him at the cabin Sam abandoned months ago and vowed to himself never to return to. When he got the call, he didn’t quite believe it, and he’s not sure he does now. With everything that’s happened, reality is harder to discern from hallucinations than ever before. He thought things were getting better; with everyone’s help he thought he could tell what was real and what was fake.

Then he got that voicemail.

It took listening to it twelve times and getting both Asa and Miranda to listen to it and tell him they could hear it too before he really believed it was real. He packed up immediately and left Asa’s house that night, but not before giving everyone one last hug and a thank you and giving Tom one last squeeze when the baby was put down for the night.

God, _Tom_.

He doesn’t even know what’s going to happen with him and Tom (doesn’t even know if Tom is really _his_ ), but he knew the moment that kid looked up at him that he’d fucking _die_ for him. So, no matter what happens now with Dean, he can’t let that be the last time he sees Tom. He’s gonna be there for that kid whether his brother likes it or not.

When he reaches a straight piece of road he takes his phone out to listen to Dean’s voicemail again, and finds a new one from Asa. He plays Dean’s first.

_‘Uh… Hey Sam. None of your numbers are working; just wanted to let you know I was back. So, if you get this, come and meet me at Rufus’ cabin, okay? …See you then.’_

It’s short, like all of Dean’s voicemails are, but there’s something new about his voice. Something harder and rougher, and there’s a tone at the end that makes Sam wonder if Dean was going to say something else, but decided not to at the last minute.

Of course, there’s always the possibility that this isn’t actually Dean. If Sam’s theory was right, and Dean really has spent the last twelve months in _Purgatory_ , then there’s every chance that the Dean who’s back here now has a new set of teeth or claws. He has to be ready if that’s the case; Asa made him put his silver knife in his belt before he got in the car.

Next, he plays the voicemail from Asa. It’s comforting to hear his friend’s voice.

_‘Hey dude, I know you’re driving right now but I thought I would let you know that when you get your brother he’s welcome here too. We’ve got plenty a room and we can help him heal like we helped you if that’s what he needs. Also… Cas woke up. He’s askin’ for ya... So just come home safe, man, and call me when you’ve got Dean. Bye.’_

Sam slams his fist against the steering wheel. “Shit!” He growls. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” He can’t believe he missed Cas waking up. He fucking _promised_ that kid every day that he’d be there when Cas came back to them. Jesus _Christ_. This better actually be Dean.

Dean.

What the _fuck_ is he gonna tell Dean about the year he’s had? Oh yeah, he can imagine it now: _Hey Dean, I did look for you but then I got beaten up pretty badly and had to stop for a while. Also, I took in this kid who I guess is technically a supernatural creature, even if we can’t figure out what exactly he is. Oh, and his name is Cas like the angel, except it’s actually short for Casimir. Also, I may or may not have gotten a girl pregnant but either way my name’s on the birth certificate and his name is Tom. But I did look for you though, and Kevin; I tried my best._

Yeah, that’s gonna go down _really_ well. Dean, who has spent the last year in a world where he probably had to fight for his life _every day_ against the supernatural, is gonna be real tolerant of Sam suddenly being a dad to some kid who could be who knows what. And Dean’s had abandonment issues for as long as Sam can remember, which have only been fuelled by Sam going to Stanford and everyone dying. He’s going to be real pleased that Sam has a baby and a sort-of girlfriend, and a friend that they’re living with in _Canada_.

He’s just gonna have to steel himself and do it. Just tell him. Lies have got them nowhere in the past. Lying now… Especially with a baby involved… It’s just not gonna work. That’s what he tells himself as he pulls up to cabin, legs aching having only stopped for gas once in his entire journey. He has to stop for a moment to crack his neck and shoulders to get rid of the tension (a habit Miranda _hates_ , and so he can’t help but think of her) before he continues to the cabin’s wooden door. He takes a deep breath when opening it, and as he steps inside he tries, still, to rid himself of the tension he’s been carrying since he left Asa’s. However he barely has a moment to stop and think before he’s hitting the floor, having been tackled by his own brother.

“Dean! I’m not a demon! Or a leviathan!” Sam spits, covering his face as he’s splashed with holy water and borax. He then cringes in pain as Dean grabs his arm and cuts him deeply, much deeper than he ever has before simply for a test.

“Or a shifter,” Dean concludes, smiling as he stands and brings Sam with him as he goes. “My turn, come on let’s go.”

Sam smiles in disbelief, holding the handkerchief Dean hands him to the wound on his arm. “Dean, I know it’s you.” There are no doubts now. If he was a monster he wouldn’t be so exuberant about being tested, or even testing Sam.

“Damn it Sammy,” Dean fumes, turning the bottles on himself and soaking the front of his shirt with the water and borax. He holds out the knife. “Come on!”

“Dean can I just say hello-“

Apparently not, as Dean is already slicing into his own arm, not even wincing slightly as he does. Once he’s satisfied, he finally looks up at Sam with a smile, who happily returns it. “All right,” Dean grins. “Let’s do this.”

Sam grimaces a little. “I don’t know whether to give you a hug or take a shower.”

Dean only smiles wider, his eyes crinkling at the edges despite the new hardness to his jaw and roughness to his overall complexion. “Come here,” He says, opening his arms, and Sam happily pulls his brother into a hard hug.

“Dude, you’re freakin’ alive!” Sam breathes, relieved beyond measure that Dean is truly here and truly _him._ “I mean, what the hell happened?”

Dean shrugs, glancing away from Sam. “Well, I guess standing too close to exploding Dick sends your ass straight to Purgatory.”

So Sam was right, Dean was in Purgatory.

And Sam didn’t manage to get him out.

“You were in Purgatory? For the whole year?” Sam clarifies, the tension returning as he realises the enormity of this revelation. God knows what Dean has seen; how this experience has changed him.

“Yeah, time flies when you’re running for your life,” Dean deflects, turning away.

 _Great_. Getting Dean to talk about this is gonna be like pulling teeth. More difficult and painful than that, even. He may as well just give up now, give up and get in the car and go home if this is what the next few months is gonna be like. This also means that it’s now even more imperative that Sam tells the truth, that he gets everything out there. He needs Dean to trust him so he’ll talk about Purgatory, and he needs to start off clean so they don’t have a repeat of the year after Dean came back from Hell. The whole world knows how that ended.

He’s about to speak again, to tell him about Miranda and Tom and Cas and Asa, to ask about Castiel, to ask how he got out, he’s not sure, but his words stick in his throat as the cabin door creaks open again, and a new figure steps into view, hard boots thumping against the old wood. Dean keeps glancing between Sam and the new person nervously, like he’s trying to gauge his brother’s reaction. Sam feels nothing but bewildered shock. Out of everything he may have thought Dean wanted to say to him on the phone, this wasn’t even _close_ to one of the options.

And as John Winchester clears his throat, approaching his youngest son, suddenly every truth Sam wanted to say flattens and cracks under each heavy step of his father’s steel-toe boots.

***

**_12 Months Earlier_ **

_It’s already been three weeks, and Sam can’t stop thinking about Crowley’s parting words. It’s true, Sam is truly alone, and he feels it. He can’t stop thinking of Dean and Castiel and Kevin, and where they might be. He’s tried summoning demons to get answers about Kevin; tried cornering crossroads demons, but apparently they’ve all been told the give him a wide berth._

_Dean and Castiel are another story. There are no bodies, which leads Sam to believe that they’re alive somewhere, just transported. He combed through the black goo Dick left behind for hours, trying to find traces of blood or guts, something that told him that explosion had blown up his brother and friend, but in the end he had to come to the conclusion that there was no trace of them anywhere. It seems that wherever Dick went, Dean and Castiel went too._

_In his search for them, he started with the stashed copies of books from Bobby’s library. They’re stashed all over Sioux Falls and beyond, and not in any particular order. He’s not even sure he’s found everything once he’s dug it up, and there’s hardly anything on Leviathan – nothing, even. They’d only just discovered them when they torched Bobby’s house, so any of those early, hasty notes were lost in the fire. All of the notes Bobby made when studying them in Rufus’ cabin were shared with Sam and Dean at the time; notes on how to kill them, what irritates them etc._

_It’s only when he digs up a hasty set of notes on_ Purgatory _that Sam finally has an idea. Purgatory was created to hold the Leviathan when God realised the mistake he’d made, and so it’s plausible to think that that’s where they go when they die. And he did explode… So while not all of him made it to Purgatory, judging by the huge amount of goo left in that lab, maybe enough did that it took Dean and Castiel with him._

 _With that realisation Sam feels sick to his stomach. It took Death creating a second eclipse to open Purgatory again, and that was a portal open to_ everything _. And when it was open the first time, Castiel pulled every soul out. It might be impossible to open Purgatory for one single soul, one_ specific _soul. Two, even._

_But he has to try._

_He tries one more time to summon a demon and ask about Kevin, but nothing happens. Crowley – of course – won’t answer him either. He’s not giving up on the prophet, but he’s clearly getting nowhere right now. A voice at the back of his mind reminds him that the longer he leaves it the more likely it is that Kevin’s dead, but he pushes it away as best he can and focuses on opening Purgatory._

_He goes through Bobby’s stash again, this time specifically for books on Purgatory. There’s a lot more this time – Bobby compiled an impressive collection during the time Castiel and Crowley were working together, and then even more after Castiel became God._

_Only a week later, he’s sorting through the stash in Bobby’s scrap yard, buried under the desk in the tiny office. He knows there’s another stash in the main workroom, the one Dean would use to work on the Impala, but he can’t find it anywhere in the walls, and while he doesn’t think Bobby is above hiding his most precious books and possessions under concrete floor, Sam doesn’t have the tools to dig it up._

_As he straightens from under the desk, holding the files in his hands, he hears the click of the safety coming off on a gun behind him. Immediately, out of instinct, he puts his hands up. “You know this is private property,” A feminine voice says behind him. “You shouldn’t be here.”_

_“I knew the guy who lived here,” Sam grits out, beyond irritated that he’s been interrupted and some chick is holding him at gunpoint. “He was my uncle.”_

_“Funny,” The girl snorts. “The Bobby Singer I knew had no family. No blood family, anyway.”_

_“He looks after my brother and I when we were young,” Sam clarifies, hoping to God that if anyone, this is a cop, because if it is then Jody can clear up any misunderstanding. However, if she is a cop then she would have said; so Sam already knows he’s screwed._

_To his surprise the girl hesitates. “Winchester?” She asks tentatively, and oh_ shit _she’s a hunter._

_With his arms still raised, Sam slowly turns, and finds a woman about his age, if only a year or two younger. She’s already considerably lowered the gun, but still holds it in a steady and confident grip. Sam doesn’t even think of drawing his own from the back of his waistband. She’s pretty, he notes distantly, with straight brown hair cut to her chin and parted at the side. One eye is covered with her hair, but the one is trained on him in a wary gaze, the blue so light it’s almost grey. She’s in jeans a t-shirt, boots and a jacket –typical hunter’s clothes. “Do I know you?” He asks, eyes momentarily glancing down at the gun in her hand._

_“Probably not,” She replies, not looking away from him for a second. “But I’ve heard a lot about you.”_

_They end up at a local diner, where Sam desperately hopes Jody won’t come in and see him. He knows he’s in a state right now, and he’s got enough missed calls from her to know she’s worried about him. The last time they spoke only lasted long enough for him to tell her Dean is missing, and to keep an eye out. At that point he had no idea where Dean could even be, so he didn’t give much more explanation before hanging up. Part of him feels like he can’t face her; doesn’t deserve to see her after he treated her with so much disrespect like that._

_He tries to distract himself by studying the woman. Her name’s Miranda Alcott, and Bobby was like a second dad to her too. She used to stay with him as a kid, while her Dad was hunting. However, unlike them, her visits to Bobby’s were scheduled, and while she was raised in the hunting life her father was much more present and sober than John Winchester – by the sounds of it._

_“So your dad was raised a hunter?” Sam enquires, studying her. She studies him back, eyes assessing._

_“Yeah,” She replies easily, as if she’s talking to someone she knows well. “And he just decided to raise me knowing about the supernatural so I could protect myself. I used to stay at Bobby’s whenever he had a hunt that would last more than a couple days. Otherwise I just stayed at home, you know; stay with family friends.”_

_She doesn’t ask anything back, and it makes Sam uncomfortable as to why that might be. She probably knows everything about him._

_“I’m guessing you already know a lot about me?” Sam asks next, and the way she shrugs tells him everything._

_“I know some,” She confesses. “Bobby always used to talk about his boys, especially in the years before he died. He was very proud of you both, and very worried any time either of you went on even the smallest hunt. He loved you very much.”_

_A lump gets stuck in Sam’s throat and he tries to clear it with a cough. He looks down at the table for a second while the sudden dryness in his eyes clears. When he looks up he flashes her an awkward smile, and chuckles quietly when he realises he can’t think of anything to say in response._

_“I thought you guys always came in a pair,” Miranda says to clear the silence, and the suddenness of it clear Sam’s old grief right away, replacing it with a new one._

_“We do,” He says, willing himself to look her in the eyes. “He’s missing.”_

_Her lips purse and she simply looks him over again as if that comes as no surprise. “That explains why you look like such a wreck,” She explains bluntly, and Sam feels the resignation come over his own face. He knows he’s not looking after himself properly; he hasn’t eaten more than a protein bar and a bottle or two of water in a couple days, and doesn’t get more than two hours sleep a night – if he gets any that is. He usually stays up to research, or go to empty crossroads to enquire about Kevin, even if none of them ever answer._

_“Yeah I don’t always do too well when my brother’s in danger,” He acquiesces, speaking a truth she probably already knows if Bobby really did talk about them. Miranda only gives him a small smile, looking up and thanking the waitress as their meals arrive. Sam’s thankful for the small reprieve it gives as a salad is placed in front of him and a chicken sandwich is placed in front of her._

_“Well then,” She says, pointing at his salad. “Eating that would be a start; when we’re done I’ll help you find the rest of Bobby’s copies, and maybe we can find this brother of yours.”_


	2. Chapter 2

“Dad?” Sam breathes, any other words caught in his throat.

“Sammy,” John replies in the same tone. He smiles slightly. “You got even taller son,” He comments. “And you grew your hair out.”

Dean snorts from across the room, still looking slightly nervous. “It’s the longest I’ve ever seen it.”

Sam reaches a hand up to his own hair nervously. It grew out a lot when he was looking for Dean; to be honest he had let himself go. Miranda offered to cut it, and it turns it she liked it longer so she all she ended up doing was styling and trimming it. Asa likes to laugh and call him a girl (as Dean inevitably will) but to be honest Sam kind of likes it.

“Uh, yeah,” Sam mutters when it’s clear no one else is gonna speak. “I don’t think it’s touched my shoulders before.”

Dean grins slightly, and John takes another small step forward. “Son,” He suddenly breathes, and that’s all the warning Sam gets before he’s pulled into a hug. He stays still for a moment, with his hands hanging at his sides; he’s never had a hug from his dad like this. It’s not short and urgent. It’s not reluctant or begrudging in any way – like it’s an obligation. It’s warm and sincere, and it reminds Sam of the hugs Bobby used to give, and of the hugs Dean would give out when they were kids. In a moment of unsureness he looks to Dean, who only gives him a wan, but true, smile. So Sam raises his arms, and for the first time since he was twenty two, he hugs his father back.

Not ten minutes later they’re cracking open beers that Sam had in the cool box in the Impala from him and Asa’s last hunt. Dean chugs his like he’s been starved of water, and Sam winces at the thought that that is most likely Dean’s first alcoholic drink in a year, so he’s probably going to be picking his brother up off the floor by morning. John sips at his, wincing at Dean as well and studying Sam. Sam studies him right back.

John has definitely changed. Sam can’t quite place how but he sees it in everything his father does. He’s still alert; still ready for any surprise just as any hunter should be, but he’s… _softer_ , somehow. No, not softer, more present. Sam remembers spending days with just him and his dad where he felt completely alone, despite John’s overbearing presence. No, that presence has receded slightly, and in its wake is another presence, who’s softer and more present as a _person_ than just as an existence.  

John’s eyes meet Sam’s again, and the younger man looks down to clear his head for a second. As he does he checks his phone, and finds two more missed calls from Asa, and one from Miranda. He should really text one of them and tell them what’s going on, but he can’t do that without his dad and brother questioning who he’s texting – after all, all their friends are dead.

He knows he should be telling them everything now, should be spilling his guts and telling them about Tom and Miranda and Asa and Cas, but he _can’t_ , he just _can’t_ to the man whose last words were that Sam either needed to be saved or killed. Thinking of that, Sam can’t help but glance over at John and wonder what he knows. Does he know that Sam was addicted to demon blood? Does he know about Lucifer? About The Cage? How did he-

“Hey! Earth to Sammy?”

Sam looks up and finds that he’s probably been staring at John for far too long. Dean is fixing him with a stern expression, and Sam knows he’s probably already been addressed several times. He clears his throat. “Yeah?” He says, not liking the expression on Dean’s face. It reminds him too much of Dean just after he released Lucifer.

“I said, how have you been? What have you been doing since I’ve been gone? Hunting?” There’s an edge to Dean’s voice that Sam feels may be slightly unwarranted for the situation, and that short temper immediately sets off alarm bells. If Dean really has changed this drastically, and has really become that impatient son of a bitch who used to beat Sam six ways to Sunday if he made a mistake, then there’s no _way_ he can bring Tom into this, let alone Cas. He just won’t do it. He won’t put his kids in danger like that.

“Um, I, actually…” He can tell by their expressions that he’s taking too long to answer. He doesn’t know what to say. “I don’t… hunt… anymore.”

Dean’s expression turns murderous, and Sam can feel himself shrinking back into his seat, bracing himself for a blow. Why the fuck did he say that? He hunted a vampire nest with Asa less than a month ago, and he has new scars all over his body to prove that he hasn’t stopped, and when he took that break in the beginning of the year it was warranted. He almost glances over at his father, but decides against it; he can’t see that disappointed, furious expression on his face too.

“So you, what, just decided that because me and Cas were out of the picture that you could just have that normal life you always wanted? Turn tale on the family business?”

Sam bodily flinches at Dean’s tone, and avoids his father’s gaze. Dean is standing up now, towering over him in a way that makes Sam sick, because he knows that even if he stands up to his full height it will now have no effect on the overbearing presence Dean has just amassed. It’s almost as if the old John is possessing Dean.

Or, it would be if Sam hadn’t already experienced this version of Dean for years – almost from the moment he got out of Hell to moment Sam jumped into The Cage. Apparently, Sam is taking too long to reply, and Dean takes another step forward. “This is why all your phones are out of service? Why I was leaving messages in the wind?”

Sam can barely bring himself the lift his eyes. _Shit shit shit_. _Why the fuck did I say that? Why can’t I say anything now?_ Again, he almost turns to look at John, but again can’t bring himself to. Dean’s face is becoming more murderous by the second, and Sam can almost feel himself cringing back into himself. A lump forms in his throat, and he feels his phone vibrate against his leg – another text from Asa, probably. Maybe even Miranda.

Maybe Cas.

His hands clench into fists, brow furrowing at the thought that he’s ignoring a message from the kid. The kid he promised to look after. _Jesus Christ how did this all go wrong so quickly?_

“ _Well?”_ Dean seethes, advancing further, only stopping when John’s heavy hand lands on his shoulder. It makes Sam bodily flinch; he hadn’t even noticed John move.

“Let your brother compose himself, Dean,” John says, in an even tone Sam doesn’t think he’s ever heard before. Dean’s jaw sets, and he doesn’t look happy but he does as he’s asked – some things never change.

When Sam finally chances a glance at his father, he doesn’t find the murderous expression he expected, instead just a quiet, calculating expression as he stares at his youngest, as if he’s trying to work him out. It makes Sam cringe, and he’s not entirely sure why. He just can’t seem to work out who this man is, this man who in their fifteen short minutes together has oddly shown more affection to him than Sam can remember being shown in his entire childhood. Also, the way he stopped Dean tells him John is almost freakishly attuned to his expressions – if he saw Sam’s panic and Dean didn’t. Or maybe his panic was obvious and Dean, in his agitated state, just didn’t care. He hasn’t done that since Sam opened The Cage. Sam swallows heavily. _Fuck_.

“I, um,” He has no idea what to say; no idea how to continue this lie. “We said we wouldn’t look for each other.” It’s true, they did, and he hopes for a second that Dean knows him well enough to see through the blatant lie. “I’m still the same guy, Dean.” He’s desperate for Dean to see through this, so he can just tell him everything, hopefully without John there. He can’t risk his Dad knowing about the kids until he knows it’s safe.

_But is it safe for this Dean to know?_

“Well, bully for you, I’m not,” Dean hisses suddenly, shaking off John’s hand and walking straight out the door. Sam hears John sigh, and when he looks up at his Dad he finds the man staring at the door Dean just left through, a crease between his brows. Sam doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know where to start. John seems to be deep in thought, and so Sam decides to just ignore his presence until he speaks. Give him some time.

His phone vibrates against his leg, and he ignores that too.

***

_It turns out there is a stash under the concrete floor of Bobby’s garage, the paranoid bastard. Miranda decides to take a goddamn pick axe to the floor, not hesitating one moment as she simply goes to the garage, finds some goggles, puts them on, and walks back into the workroom and swings. Sam finds himself surprised by her calm demeanour, having expected to do most of the work; however she didn’t even give him the chance._

_Then again, when Sam looks down at his own hands and sees how the bones in his fingers jut out – a stark reminder of the weight he’s dropped and the hope he’s continuing to lose – he knows he shouldn’t be surprised. Most likely, she’s much stronger than him right now, both emotionally and physically, and it would have only taken one look at him on her part to work that out._

_It’s not long before he hears the concrete begin to break. He wonders how she knows exactly where to look, or if she’s just gonna tear up the whole floor. His question is answered within minutes, however, when she comes back out with a metal box. “That was fast,” He comments, because even at full strength it would take Sam longer than that to break through a concrete floor._

_She just shakes her head, placing the box on the office counter and sitting down on the rusted old chair. “That part of the floor was weak and thin, right at the back in the corner. I don’t think Bobby was really worried about protecting it too heavily, just wanted to hide it.”_

_Sam nods, and looks over her shoulder as she opens the box. Inside there isn’t much, just a copy of one short book and some loose papers, however when she lifts those out a stack of photos are carefully placed underneath. A lump forms in Sam’s throat as he looks at them, reaching over Miranda to pull them out one by one._

_The one on top is a picture of a young Bobby with a seven year old Dean and three year old Sam. Underneath is a picture of Bobby, a little girl and another man of a similar age; Sam can only assume it’s Miranda and her father, so he hands it to her. There a couple other pictures of Bobby with the Winchesters or the Alcotts, and a number of much older pictures of Bobby with a woman that Sam can only assume is his late wife, Karen._

_Then, at the bottom, is a group picture that has Sam putting the other photographs down and clenching his fists. It’s the one from just before they faced Lucifer head on for the first time, Castiel, Dean, Bobby, himself, Ellen and Jo all looking equally miserable and worried. He thought they had burned the only copy of this picture, but Bobby was a sentimental bastard at heart; they should have known he wouldn’t burn the only copy of the last picture in existence of the Harvelles._

_He steps back from the table, running a hand over his stubble as he tries to keep his emotions at bay. It’s bad enough that he’s grieving for Dean and Cas right now – even if he is trying to find them, and Kevin – but to be reminded of_ this? _The Harvelles’ death was one of his biggest failures; one of the biggest repercussions of him letting Lucifer out, and he’s never forgiven himself for it._

_Miranda reaches in and picks up the picture with a gentle touch. “The Harvelles,” She murmurs, running a finger over first Ellen’s face and then Jo’s._

_“You knew them?” Sam asks, and immediately regrets even asking. He doesn’t want to discuss them, or how they died or even_ why _. More than that, it’s just a dumb question to begin with. The Roadhouse was the hottest hunter’s spot of its day – everyone knew the Harvelles._

_Miranda shrugs. “Unlike you I didn’t crisscross the country living in motel rooms – no offense,” She adds. “Dad would go to a different state every few years and work out of that. We’d rent a house and after I don’t know… two to four years we’d move on. When I was eight we lived in Nebraska, not far from the Roadhouse. It was nice; I spent a lot of time there.”_

_“Oh,” Sam says. “We only met them about three years before they died. Ellen called our dad, but he had just died so… we answered the call. Lot of good it did them, too.” He couldn’t seem to stop himself from saying the last part out loud, or keep the bitterness from his voice._

_Miranda looks up at with concern, a crease between her brows. “From what Bobby told me I think you helped them a great deal, Sam. And everyone else in the world for that matter.”_

_Sam’s shoulders tense, suddenly more self-conscious than he’s felt in a long time. “How much do you know about me?” He finally asks, unsure of what answer he wants._

_She just shrugs, unbothered by his question as she places the photographs carefully back inside the old box. “I heard all the rumours, of course, about the demon blood and Lucifer and the apocalypse, including how the Harvelles died, although no one knows the specifics of that apart from the people who were there. Bobby would never talk about it, not to anyone, not even me.” She turns and faces him, her expression serious and open, clear that she wants him to listen. “But I also heard about how you went to Hell for the whole world, and didn’t get one iota of thanks for it. When you died Bobby went a little nuts, making it clear to everyone that the Winchesters had retired and Dean especially was strictly off limits, and everyone should be thanking you for their life. Then you came back and everyone said you’d become a soldier heartless enough to make your daddy proud, and Bobby just said to leave you and Dean alone to do your thing. Obviously I don’t know what was going on there but the rumours about that were pretty much split between either you going to hell was true and it had changed you, or that it wasn’t true and that you were actually being possessed by Lucifer. I later heard that you guys were involved with all the monster mess, including those freaks that showed up last years with the black goo and the teeth.”_

_“Leviathans,” Sam supplies, fighting to get the word out past the lump in his throat. He can’t remember the last time he met a hunter who knew what he had done in raising Lucifer and didn’t want to kill him. In fact, bar Jody or a member of his family (Bobby and Cas included), he can’t remember a time he had an honest conversation about his life with_ anyone _. It feels strangely good that someone knows these things and hasn’t tried to shoot him or shove demon blood down his throat to use him for their own gains. However it also feels sickening in a way he can’t explain, that she knows so much about him and he knows so little about her; more than that it’s clear the hunting community as a whole knows these things, which is even more sickening as he’ pretty sure every hunter he’s ever met before in his life is dead. He shakes his head a little, trying to get himself back on topic before Dean once again pushes himself to the complete forefront of his mind. She was talking about the Leviathans… now that he thinks about it, Sam’s a little surprised she doesn’t know the name of them. He thought Dean and Bobby had done well on spreading info on the new threat. “They’re mostly dead now though.”_

_Miranda grins, standing from the chair, ignoring its creak of protest as she does. “I’m kind of out of the hunting community,” She explains, gathering the documents and the box into her arms. “The crowds got a bit too judgemental and rowdy over the past couple years, kinda ousted anyone connected to anyone named Winchester or Bobby Singer.”_

_“I’m sorry,” Sam says immediately. He hadn’t realised that Bobby – or anyone else, for that matter – had been cut off from the hunting community because of his failures. This is just another one to add to his ever-growing list._

_“Don’t be,” She replies immediately, not pitying or placating in the slightest, just commanding. “I don’t go to hunter gatherings enough to really be part of the community anyway. I prefer to hunt alone, most of the time, anyway.” With that she brushed past him, walking over to the Impala and getting into shotgun, not even waiting to check that Sam was coming with her. As far as Sam is aware she doesn’t have a car, or even a motorbike. For a second he just stands there staring over at the car before finally realising he should probably follow. He gets in the driver’s seat, looking back at the box full of paper he’s already got stacked in the back of the car – all copies of Bobby’s extensive library._

_“Where now?” Sam asks, turning the key in the ignition and backing out of the salvage yard as carefully as possible._

_“You got a room?” Miranda asks, already leafing through the stack of pages they found under Bobby’s floor._

_For some reason the question startles Sam, although he’s not sure what he was expecting. Did he expect her to suggest they take a box full of dusty pages filled with lore about monsters to a public diner or library? He really needs to get some sleep, soon. “Yeah.”_

_“Then let’s go there,” She orders, looking over at him with a carefully neutral expression. “We could make a start on the papers, see if there’s anything about missing Winchesters in there.”_

_“Yeah, sure, that’d be great,” Sam agrees, once again glancing into the rear-view mirror at the box of papers in the back. It’s not a lot, not nearly a tenth of Bobby’s library, but it’s a start._

_It’s a start._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!   
> Please leave a comment and/or kudos if you can. Comments are always welcome.   
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter.


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